After they were left alone, Natasha pulled the couch open to reveal a full-size bed. "It's...adequate," she announced with hesitation. "However, I have certainly slept in worse places...and I'm sure that you have, too!" Then, without waiting for an answer, she took off to make a call to arrange for their transportation the next day...and to find the small cottage's bathroom. When she returned, she informed Sherlock that she had found towels and toothbrushes in the cabinet, and had laid some out for his use.
"They're the last ones, but it serves him right for not offering in the first place," she explained, referring to their reluctant host.
When Sherlock returned back to the main room, he found a very familiar-looking pile of weaponry, along with a hot cup of tea, on the nearby table. What immediately caught his eye, however, was the fact that Natasha was already reclined on one side of the bed and wore only a man's tshirt instead of her usual jumpsuit. It obviously belonged to her friend, Fury, and Sherlock felt an unusual stab of something at the thought of her in another man's clothing.
When did she get that? he wondered irritably and purposely avoided looking at her long bare legs as he grabbed the cup of tea. Even though it was obviously made from a bag, (Americans!, he thought with a snort of derision) he still welcomed the distraction that the drink offeredas he promptly turned around to head in the opposite direction in order to try and make himself comfortable in the only chair there.
Natasha waited until he had finished the tea before she ordered him into the empty side of the bed. "Sherlock, you need to sleep." At his look of reluctance, she laughed. "Don't worry. I won't bite, you know." She paused and smiled, "Not unless you really want me to, at any rate."
Sherlock could only stare at her, his normally ordered mind in a sudden unexpected whirl of chaos as he could not get the thought out of his mind that being bitten by her might not be so bad...especially under certain circumstances.
"Bed…now!" the woman insisted firmly, interrupting his confused reverie, and Sherlock remembered that she was a deadly assassin for a reason…plus he was suddenly completely exhausted. Therefore, he quickly removed his shoes and proceeded to lie down, fully-clothed, on the bed. He had never been one to worry much about social protocol, so he found that he had no idea how to handle this particular situation. Normally, he would have let her physical cues guide him. However, he was feeling increasingly unlike his usual deductive self at the moment. In fact, his head was practically whirling. Therefore, in order to hide his consternation, he carefully turned over on his side to face away from her...only to be completely surprised by her next move.
"That's not so bad now, is it?" she muttered as she curled up to him and draped herself over his back. She placed one bare knee on his thigh and he shivered a little as she slid her arm around his midsection. Then Sherlock actually gulped in disbelief when she pressed herself more firmly against him and even wiggled a little bit in the quest to find the most comfortable position. Even with his powers of observation, he never would have guessed that the deadly Black Widow was a cuddler...or that her closeness would have such an unexpected effect on him - especially when she gave a small sigh of pleasure as her body finally found just the right spot. In fact, the whirling feeling and confusion only increased in intensity at that moment and he had to close his eyes in order to calm the sensation.
After just a moment, however, Natasha's breathing evened out and her grip on him loosened slightly. Sherlock realized that she had gone to sleep...and he marveled that she actually already trusted him enough to allow herself to be in such a vulnerable situation in his presence - something that he knew must be as difficult for her as it was for him. However, she had done it anyway. That thought filled him with a soft feeling that he could only guess was the dreaded sentiment that he always tried to avoid. However, with her comforting warmth at his back, he decided that he just did not care. Consequently, he let go and finally gave in to the whirling sensation. He soon fell into a deep sleep, as well.
When he awoke, he was alone on the sofa bed. However, he heard voices coming from nearby, and he wondered why he had not automatically awakened as his body registered the change in environment when Natasha got out of bed.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. How are you feeling?"" the redhead at the table remarked casually as he stood up. He soon realized why when he noted that his mind was uncharacteristically fuzzy as he staggered into the attached kitchen.
"You drugged me!" he exclaimed as he suddenly remembered the cup of tea, the uncharacteristic confusion, and the whirling feelings of the night before. He sat down heavily in the chair between her and Fury and stared at them moodily.
Fury chuckled but Natasha just shrugged. "You needed to sleep," she stated unapologetically as she poured him out a cup of coffee from the pot on the table while she also topped off hers and Fury's. "Consider us even." She pushed the cup across to him. "Here. Drink this and you'll feel better. The sleeping formula that we use is leaps and bounds above the basic medical grade stuff that your doctor friend carried in his bag, so you will feel more like yourself in just a few minutes. The only reason the effects were so strong last night was because you fought so hard against it."
To his surprise, Sherlock soon realized that she was telling the truth…and that the restful night's sleep had actually agreed with him...so much so, in fact, that he did not even feel any anger towards her…just gentle amusement.
"So…do you always drug your men before you sleep with them?" he asked with his usual deadpan calm.
"Only when they have something I want," she echoed his answer from the previous morning with a smirk. Despite himself, Sherlock could not help but laugh...and even their host snorted in amusement.
After their simple breakfast, Fury packed a bag while he grumbled that it was good thing that it was time for him to move on anyway. Then he switched out his eyepatch for a pair of sunglasses before they climbed into the rental car and drove it even further into the countryside. After checking the GPS coordinates several times to make sure that they were in the right spot, Natasha stopped in the middle of nowhere.
"Have you ever seen a quinjet before?" she asked him as they all exited the car just as a deep hum filled the air. At Sherlock's perplexed look, she pointed upwards.
"I thought you said that this was an unofficial mission?" he asked after he saw what was there.
He did not want to admit that he was completely taken by surprise by the unusual aircraft that appeared out of the cloud cover…and actually hovered…in the sky above them before it set down gracefully in the adjacent field and folded its wings. He then reprimanded himself for continuing to be astonished by anything that had to do with this woman - especially since he had the feeling that it was going to be a neverending situation for him if they continued their acquaintance...and that was something that he suddenly realized he wanted very much to do, indeed!
"It is," Natasha answered his question. "However, we still have some unofficial old friends, from a now unofficial organization with a few unofficial leftover toys, who were willing to help us out with transport." Then she laughed at the look on his face, before her demeanor changed and her eyes softened slightly.
"Why don't you come with me, Sherlock?" she asked quietly as she reached out to grasp his hand with her own. "Just come for a visit and we can arrange for you to catch a ride back whenever you want. We can stop by the farm to deliver Fury, and then head on to New York City, if you like. It is a city of crime, you know, so you should feel right at home there. Plus, it would give us a chance to…well...get to know each other better. If it works out, I promise you that life will definitely never be boring again. If not…well…" She paused to squeeze his hand gently before she dropped it.
"We'll always have Kazakhstan," Sherlock finished the sentence for her and Natasha laughed again…a delightfully deep, full-of-humor, honest-to-goodness laugh. He found the sound of it to be very intriguing, much like the woman herself. In fact, he already knew that he was more interested in her than in any other woman that he had ever known, including The Woman - and that was certainly saying something!
He thought about what she was asking of him...to climb voluntarily into the Black Widow's web...and he had to admit that he found the idea of such a new kind of adventure to be very exciting...in more ways than one! He also knew that his brother would be extremely unhappy with him if he went through with the crazy plan. However, the thought of Mycroft's discomfiture when he finally realized what his younger brother had done...and with whom...just made the moment all the sweeter when he followed Natasha up the ramp of the quinjet...and deeper into the web...without looking back.
